


Anthropochory

by aishahiwatari



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: And they need to be spread, Dubious Consent, Dubious Consent due to Sex Pollen, First Kiss, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Hand-wavy Biology, It's not actually pollen, It's seeds, Love Confessions, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Not Beta Read, Overstimulation, PWP, Pining, Prostate Massage, Requited Unrequited Love, Sex Pollen, Some Medical Sampling, not in that order, pretty much, so much pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 11:03:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18009734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aishahiwatari/pseuds/aishahiwatari
Summary: On an away mission, Jim is dosed with sex pollen. He thinks he can get through it alone.He is wrong.





	Anthropochory

**Author's Note:**

> Anthropochory is the dispersal of plant seeds by humans.

Leonard thought he was dreaming at first, Jim’s body solid and warm, slipping into bed beside him, immediately identifiable. Leonard knew every angle of that body better than he knew his own, reached out without thinking to smooth his hands over Jim’s ribs, urging him closer. Until Jim shoved a knee into his kidney, anyway. “Damnit, Jim!”

 

“Sorry! Sorry.” Jim muttered but didn’t move away. If anything he pressed closer and that was not a phaser in his pocket. Not that his slim-fitting briefs would have left any room for that sort of thing, and he wasn’t wearing anything else.

 

Knowing that, suddenly, Jim’s skin felt unbearably hot. It was not particularly warm on the ship, since everybody was generally wearing a uniform, and Leonard’s fingers were at Jim’s throat before he could think, taking his pulse. It was very, very fast. “Jesus, how long have you been like this?”

 

“Too long. I can’t- I tried on my own. But it’s only getting worse, God, there’s- there's no-one else, please, Bones.”

 

“It’s okay, Jim, I gotcha.”

 

Leonard barely had time to think, had no idea what he would have done if he did. Damaged their friendship irreparably, probably. As it was, he had a hand in Jim's underwear, cradling his hot, hard cock, felt him shudder and pant warm breath against Leonard's skin. God, he was gorgeous. Leonard had never wanted to kiss him more in his life, settled for murmuring soothing words in Jim's ear, inhaling the scent of him where clean sweat dampened the hair at the nape of his neck, holding him steady with another hand on his hip.

 

"You can always come to me, Jim, I'd never let anything happen to you. Just let go. Let me take care of it for a little while."

 

Jim huffed a breathless laugh even in his state, a rush of heated air, his whole body shifting in stuttered, jerky movements to where he was being touched, like his body craved it but his mind wasn't quite willing to accept that. "Didn't think you'd be a talker."

 

Leonard's first thought -so you have thought about it?- felt unnecessarily humiliating, potentially for both of them in that moment. Instead, with Jim's heavy, flushed cock leaking copiously onto his hand, his grip loose but encouraging, he smiled. "Surprised you're not."

 

Because he had thought about it. He'd thought about it the first time he'd woken up to hear muffled sounds and heavy breathing from across the room, Jim too caught up or desperate to notice the change. He'd thought about it after coming home after a long shift at the Academy clinic, too tired to care that his sheets were rumpled and his pillow smelled like Jim's shampoo. He'd thought about it every day since the moment he'd known he couldn't leave Jim behind. Just in flashes, sometimes, when Jim's smile was particularly easy and honest, his eyes shining bright. Or for longer, during guilt-filled sessions in that very bed, shrouded in the unavoidable knowledge that they would fit together so well.

 

And they did. It was nothing like Leonard had ever imagined, because of course he wanted Jim willing, not driven to him by necessity. But he knew what to do. Jim had come to him because he trusted him and Leonard had catalogued relentlessly over the years which touches Jim would lean into and which he would pull away from. He knew what Jim needed to feel, and he moved them so he could press Jim down into his sheets and smiled when he saw startled wide eyes.

 

That was better. He could see -which Jim thought he didn't want but he did- every flicker of emotion and pain laid bare. It meant Leonard didn't need to ask, but he did anyway, because he wanted Jim to answer. "That hurt?" he asked with a tighter squeeze of Jim's cock, -so slick at the head, God, Leonard wanted to taste him, to swallow him down and feel it pulse against his tongue- that made Jim hide a flinch.

 

And Jim wouldn't make eye contact, but he nodded, staring at Leonard's shoulder, the stuttering motion of his hips less violent and smoother. He looked mildly outraged when Leonard removed his hand, though, then surprised when Leonard reached for lube always close at hand in his bedside table. How could it not have been when Jim had been so gorgeous in his persistent arousal, however involuntary, however much he'd been trying to fight it and downplay it for the benefit of the crew.

 

Leonard slicked his fingers, revelling in the way Jim watched every tiny movement, eased Jim's briefs down a little with his clean hand and then cradled Jim's cock again before the lube had time to warm from his skin. Jim's delicious, breathless little gasp of relief would haunt Leonard's dreams forever.

 

"We're going to do this," Leonard murmured, as Jim's eyes fluttered closed, so beautifully trusting, his hips twitching restlessly at the command in Leonard's voice, "I'm going to take the pressure off, for a little while, and then we're going to fix this."

 

Clearly their Science department wasn't working fast enough to find a suitable antidote, had taken their samples from Jim and allowed him to seek privacy at the first opportunity. Leonard had hoped that would be enough, had heard Jim himself say that he would be fine, that he could take care of it, that he had done the same damn thing for fun on Risa plenty of times. There had been nothing to suggest the levels of alien matter in his bloodstream would be more harmful than any other known variety, that they would require any intervention other than time and a little self-care.

 

Turned out this new variety was a little stronger than even Jim could handle, even at the deceptively low levels the Science department had found.

 

It took everything Leonard had not to sink into the illusion, into trailing kisses down Jim's jaw and down his exposed throat like he wanted to. But it wasn't what Jim needed just then and Leonard wouldn't be another complication in Jim's life. He deserved so much better. Instead he slowly, gently stroked, Jim's cock dripping with lube, hot and hard and perfect in his hand, and listened to Jim pant. His breathing hitched when Leonard twisted his wrist, Jim's brow creasing like he was holding something back.

 

That was alright. Leonard was too.

 

He found a balance between the pace Jim wanted -expressed by shifts of his hips and the twitches of his fingers, arms loose at his sides- and the one he could take. Jim was never satisfied with enough, had to have just too much and it was, Leonard thought, both a testament to his own skill and a sign of how far Jim's state had progressed that Jim came so quickly, pulsing across Leonard's fingers in surprisingly copious spurts with a shuddering breath.

 

Jim's femoral pulse point was closest, in the cradle of his hip, and Leonard pressed slick fingers to it to check. Still high, but appropriate for the exertion rather than terrifyingly, needlessly rapid. It was a start. Leonard was hard too, by then, couldn't possibly not have been, but he ignored it and reached for wipes. When he'd cleaned his fingers and Jim still hadn't opened his eyes, Leonard found himself unable to resist his caretaking instinct. He cleaned Jim's stomach, made him shiver with the cool dampness against his overheated skin, telegraphed his movements as much as possible with Jim's eyes still closed and ever-so-gently enclosed his cock with another wipe to remove all evidence of what they had done.

 

Jim hissed, a helpless crease in his brow, but he was oversensitive not pained. He was still hard, though, his cock reddened with persistent arousal and overuse.

 

Leonard reached for salve without thinking, was aware that Jim's eyes flew open when he began to apply it, just gentle fingers coating satiny skin. He would not make it awkward, wouldn't let any of it take Jim from him, met those -beautiful, shocked, sated- eyes and asked, "How long does it usually help for?"

 

"'Bout an hour."

 

Shit. Not long at all. Time enough, though, for: "Don't think I'm not annoyed you didn't tell me."

 

"I know. I'm sorry. I thought- it'd go on its own. Always has before. Why isn't my immune system fighting it?"

 

If Leonard hadn't seen Jim effortlessly deal with some of the most terrifying scenarios known to man, he might have been impressed by how steady Jim's voice was.

 

"It’s alien matter. Your body might not even see it as a- threat. _Shit._ " Leonard was going for his scanner before he even had time to register the almost-physical pain of tearing himself out of the bed he was sharing with a post-coital Jim.

 

"What?" Jim asked. He had leaned up on his elbows to do it, the blankets pooling attractively around his lap. He wrinkled his nose when Leonard scraped some of the fluid from one of the used wipes onto a sample vial then slotted it into the machine.

 

"Goddamnit," Leonard said to the results, hopelessly skewed by antibacterial solution as they were. "Why do plants do anything?" he asked, rhetorically, going in search of suitable soft clothing while also dressing himself. He needed to go to the lab. And he would need another sample.

 

He missed the moment that realisation hit Jim, but heard it clearly in his tone. "Are you telling me I have alien plant seeds in me?"

 

"Well, you have fewer than you did five minutes ago."

 

That was why the levels had been lower, why Jim's condition hadn't changed with any of the substances designed to reduce pollen levels. He'd had the fertilized seeds implanted directly to his blood stream through what Science had dismissed as thorn scratches.

 

"Ugh."

 

"Yup. Get dressed, we need to go to the lab." Leonard threw sweatpants and a shirt at Jim, who looked somewhat taken aback for a moment before he pulled them on.

 

"I can't go wandering the halls dressed like this."

 

"You don't need to." Leonard told him, doing his best not to look as Jim struggled with the waistband of sweats that had originally been his, much of their clothing having changed ownership multiple times over the years. He had thought, some days, that knowing what Jim felt like against him would quell the urge to have him, but apparently that wasn't the case. Having touched him, he selfishly wanted more, didn't allow himself to hesitate as he took hold of Jim's wrist and said, "Computer, emergency transport to medical lab one."

 

God, he hated transporters. They always left him unsettled, like every single molecule in his body was out of alignment by one.

 

Nobody was in the lab, so late into gamma shift. Leonard locked the door so nobody could override it but them and waved Jim in the direction of the closest biobed where he hopped up to sit with a telling wince. If it was too bad for him to hide it, Leonard was concerned. Jim stripped the shirt off, too, either uncomfortable with it so close to his sensitized skin or the biggest tease their side of the Sol system.

 

He passed Jim some vials for blood samples, next, knew he preferred to do it himself whenever he was able.

 

"Try and get as close to those scratch marks as possible."

 

Leonard tended to get lost in his work and Jim tended to be restless when he was in med-bay, no matter how reassuring Leonard was. As a result, he was running tests and scans and applying potential neutralizers for a number of minutes before he noticed that Jim was sitting too still for him to have anything but the tightest grasp on his control.

 

A glance at the chrono told him he hasn't lost that much time, though. "That wasn't an hour."

 

"I can hold back a while longer," Jim said, without looking at him. His grip on the edge of the biobed was white-knuckled. "And it gets shorter every time."

 

"Jesus, Jim." Leonard's hands didn't shake when they set up the next round of tests, but they came close. "Put the bed on, would you, I want to check your vitals."

 

There was a telling pause before that happened, but Leonard was grateful that Jim had turned the volume down when the beeping started, far too fast. His temperature was much too high, too, the spores or seeds or whatever in his blood bringing his oxygen saturation down.

 

Some of that must have shown on his face, because Jim snorted. "Not good?"

 

"Strangely, no the alien substance running rampant through your system is doing you no favors."

 

"You'll fix it, Bones." But Jim's voice was suspiciously breathy, and tension was palpably building in their little room. "You always do."

 

"Damn straight," Leonard agreed without really thinking about it, because there was no other option. "Don't think you're getting out of talking about this that easily."

 

Jim laughed, just a little. His pupils were dilated and they made him look deceptively innocent. Leonard dimmed the lights, switched his screens over to night mode.

 

When Jim's breathing began to stutter, Leonard approached him with another vial. "I need another sample. To compare the levels. That alright?"

 

"If I develop a kink from this-" Jim managed a weak smile, held out his arm.

 

Leonard was as gentle with him as possible, leaned in to murmur into Jim's ear to save them having to make eye contact and school their expressions, didn't think he imagined the hitch in Jim's breath when their skin brushed. "I'm sorry I can't get you back to my rooms for this. But I need another sample. One that hasn't been decimated by Starfleet anti-bac."

 

Jim's huff of resigned laughter was soft and warm. "It's a good thing you look like that, because your pick-up lines are terrible."

 

"Lay back and I'll put my hand in your pants."

 

"That’s better."

 

The casual conversation seemed to bolster Jim's confidence, at least, and he twisted to lay back with an almost-sultry lick of his lips and a fairly convincing leer.

 

Leonard didn't let him wait long enough to feel self-conscious, shut the bed off and then hopped up himself to straddle Jim's thighs. In his uniform and boots, it felt a little awkward and deeply arousing, like the worst of his fantasies. Jim was too warm, flushed and damp with sweat, dressed in clothes Leonard had picked out for him. He was perfect, but it couldn't last.

 

Leonard wanted to lean down and kiss him, to soothe both their worries by pressing their bodies together and coaxing Jim's lips apart with his tongue, to taste and savor. All he allowed himself was a swipe of his thumb through the pre-come that threatened to drip from the head of Jim's cock before applying lube, wrapping his hand around that hot, hard length and beginning to stroke.

 

Jim had more control or was in less pain due to the salve, because he relaxed rather than pushing into Leonard's grip, trusting him to know what he needed.

 

"Good," Leonard murmured without thinking, mostly because it would slow Jim's heart rate better if he lost the constant tension in his muscles. Mostly. It made Jim's eyes lock onto his, though, vague and a little surprised. Leonard arched a brow, because even with his long-suppressed lust clouding his mind, it was still Jim beneath him, still his best friend. "What? I give credit where it's due."

 

"If I'd known this was all it took, I would have done it years ago." Jim arched to pant so that Leonard couldn't see his eyes, just yearned to taste the exposed skin of his throat. Still, it hid the stupid, cautious hope that might well have flooded Leonard's expression at the thought, of Jim giving in and welcoming Leonard's affections not just then, but always.

 

"And deny us this hopelessly romantic moment?"

 

"You're right, what was I- oh, God, your hands, how do you- I always thought you were straight."

 

Jim had been thinking about it, Leonard knew. It didn’t necessarily mean anything -it didn't- but the embers smouldering away in his heart sparked hopefully.

 

"Surprise." And Leonard pressed a knuckle of his free hand into the space behind Jim's balls, knew exactly where to best stimulate his prostate from the outside so that Jim's breathless laugh was cut off with a heartfelt groan as he shuddered and came, long and slow, onto Leonard's fingers.

 

The effect was ruined somewhat by Leonard having to reach immediately for test tubes, vials and slides, and he touched the briefest of kisses to Jim's temple to soften the blow.

 

"Best alien disease ever," he thought he heard Jim mumble to himself, still laughing a little, all relaxed and sated, however briefly, because of Leonard.

 

"Just don't tell Spock, or this'll end up on official records."

 

"Can you imagine? I sort of want to, though, to see how he would word it."

 

"Don't you dare. I obtained a sample and that's all the Admiralty need to know."

 

"You relieved my symptoms, too."

 

"Oh, dear God."

 

"I appreciate your hands-on methods, Doctor. Very dynamic."

 

"Jim-"

 

"Taking your work home with you, too."

 

"Please stop."

 

They shared a brief, conspiratorial smile, and then Jim looked down at himself. "Can I wipe this off now?"

 

"Sure." Leonard threw him some wipes, already setting up the next battery of tests. The seeds weren't responding to any of the usual methods, but honestly he hadn't really expected them to. Things were never that easy, especially with the sort of scrapes Jim got himself into regularly. "Your levels of foreign matter are a lot higher in that most recent sample. Do you mind doing another, so I can-"

 

He didn't need to ask, had heard the hiss of the spray, turned to catch the vial thrown to him. "Thanks."

 

"No. Thank you."

 

It could have been leering, but it wasn't, and Leonard shot Jim a small smile that was returned. Jim had put the biobed on, too, so the reassuringly steady beat of his heart gave rhythm to Leonard's procedures.

 

"You said the recovery period is shortening," he said, saw Jim nod in his peripheral vision. "Are you also- less sensitive than you were?"

 

That killed the smile, made Jim flush a little. "Sort of. More sensitive, but painfully so. It's- harder every time. Takes longer. The first couple of times, a light breeze would have set me off."

 

"First couple- Jim, how many times in total before you found me?"

 

"Maybe- twelve?"

 

"Christ, Jim!" Leonard was rifling through cupboards immediately in search of what he needed, passed over a bottle of water and a couple of sachets of nutrient paste that were accepted with great reluctance and a roll of Jim's eyes. "Drink it, or you'll have a damn stroke before I can even figure out what the hell this is."

 

Jim opened his mouth. Leonard got there first.

 

"And no damn jokes about stroking, or I'm going to conveniently run out of medical grade lubricant."

 

Jim grimaced and began to drink.

 

-

 

" _Bones_ ," Jim said urgently not even thirty minutes later.

 

"Goddamnit." Leonard said, posting his most recent set of results to the science department cloud and sending an alert to notify any available qualified officers to work on it. "It's getting worse every time?"

 

Jim whimpered his agreement, was still sat on the biobed, hunched over, shoulders shaking. He didn't even resist when Leonard pushed his knees apart, stepped between them to draw Jim into his arms. It was going too far, he knew, pushing the boundaries they had always needed, that last line of defence between them.

 

Still, if Jim died, none of it would matter. Leonard would flay himself alive and worse to keep him safe, had proved it on multiple occasions. He could handle it. Literally. He pulled Jim in closer with two hands on his ass and revelled in the startled squeak it earned him, eased the soft, loose sweatpants down and brushed the backs of his knuckles down the hard length of Jim's cock, feather-light.

 

It still made Jim flinch and hiss and admit, "It hurts," in a fragile, broken voice Leonard never wanted to hear again. He tangled the fingers of his other hand in Jim's hair, encouraged him to rest his hot, damp forehead on Leonard's shoulder for a moment. At least it helped with the trembling, a little, but Jim was shifting restlessly, needing more. Leonard would have loved to have him so sweetly desperate and aroused, but the pain he could really do without.

 

"You know what I'll suggest next," he said softly and felt Jim shudder violently, pressing closer. In his state, then, he wanted it. Leonard wished he'd had a chance to ask while Jim was more lucid, hated to think that some part of him had delayed on purpose, unwilling to lose the chance. He hoped that wasn’t it. Hoped he was a better friend than that. "You wanna lay back, darlin'? Let me do all the work."

 

Jim's eyes were glassy and wet as they searched Leonard's for something. Apparently satisfied, although without relinquishing the tight hold of one of his hands in Leonard's shirt, Jim laid back. He was so damn beautiful, his body slim and sinuous, cock hard and heavy and waiting against his belly. It twitched and leaked a little when Leonard rolled up his sleeves and Leonard ached to feel it on his tongue.

 

Even after all they had been through, that would definitely be pushing the boundaries of what they could both call medically necessary.

 

Leonard hoisted himself up onto the biobed, arranging Jim gently -because he was vaguer than ever, eyes glassy, limbs loose and limp but cooperative, chest heaving- and settling on his knees between Jim's splayed legs. He ran what he hoped was a comforting palm down Jim's side, meeting his eyes and receiving the loveliest pleading look in return.

 

He reached for lube, contemplated gloves but decided against them. Jim needed his best friend, not his doctor, and pushing the experience even further towards the clinical would only alienate him.

 

God, he hoped that was the right choice. Jim watched him, pouted and arched and wordlessly made it clear that he wanted. It was disconcerting to have him so quiet so Leonard watched him carefully when he touched slick fingertips to the tight, hot furl of Jim's hole. He tested the resistance and Jim's legs spread wider, hips bearing down in an attempt to take more. Still, he didn't speak.

 

He didn’t make a sound at all beyond heavy breathing until Leonard could delay no longer and pressed one finger inside of him. Then Jim whined, arching, trembling, so hopelessly perfect that Leonard nearly came himself. Jim's insides were hot and soft, so precious a secret that Leonard wanted to cry at being allowed to see, to touch, to feel that tight muscle squeezing around him. One finger was enough, technically, but he wanted two, eased Jim into stretching enough to allow it with gentle, slow caresses, long presses. All the while, he kept an eye on the pulse pounding in Jim's throat, the rise and fall of his chest, the cadence of his breathing. And he guiltily savored the soft sounds, Jim's whimpers and moans and cut-off gasps, because every single one of them was so damn precious, a sign that he wasn’t hurting, didn't want Leonard to stop.

 

Jim moaned outright when he was urged to part around two fingers, clenched tight for an instinctive instant before relaxing and allowing entrance. Leonard did not have small hands, he knew, was exceptionally careful as he delved deeper into the slick, velvety heat, and only once Jim was keening with suppressed need did he curl his fingers to find that all-important bundle of nerves.

 

It wasn't difficult. Jim's prostate was swollen and inflamed, and the slightest brush made him writhe and moan. It had to be part of the plants influence, Leonard knew, as he worked to caress gently, hiding his examination amidst arrhythmic strokes and varied pressure until Jim was sobbing with need. There was a trail of pre-come linking the head of his cock to what had pooled on his stomach, and Leonard's mouth watered at the sight of it. And even though Jim pushed down, rolled his hips, sought more, harder and faster, Leonard refused. He didn't know how many more rounds they would have, wouldn’t oversensitize Jim too quickly, was persistently gentle through the tests of his willpower.

 

"Gently, that's it," he murmured when Jim's attempts became weaker, less immediate in his exhaustion. "Just trust me, let me get you there real slow, know you've had a long day but none of that's gonna feel like this, like you're turning inside out with how hard it hits you. Just let me, that's it. So damn gorgeous, you've no idea, just a little longer, alright? Don't chase it, just let it come."

 

Jim's legs were trembling with how close he was and Leonard steadied one with his free hand, pushing it just a little further up and out, widened the stretch of his fingers, pressed a tiny bit harder and deeper.

 

Jim sobbed when he came in thick, white ribbons across his chest, his eyes wide and unseeing, his ass clenching tight around Leonard's fingers, every breath a shrill whine of almost-too-much as Leonard expertly milked him through it, searing the moment into his memory because Jim was beautiful, he was a revelation, he was everything Leonard needed and if he could just have that one memory, he told himself, it would be enough.

 

He blinked away the tears in his eyes before Jim could see them, kept up his soft, tender touches as he waited for Jim to curl away, oversensitive.

 

It didn't happen. If anything, Jim's motions were more frantic, his body bearing down to take more, clutching tight to pull Leonard deeper. So Leonard didn't stop, but he did worry. "Talk to me, Jim. What do you need?"

 

"Just don't stop, Bones, please. I'm so close, I need it, just once more, please, let me, please-"

 

And who was Leonard to deny him anything? He'd do it for as long as Jim wanted, if it meant hearing him beg so sweetly. He stroked a little faster without going harder, every single sign of Jim's body -the tension in his limbs, the sweat dripping down his chest, the quickness of his breathing- suggesting he had been waiting to come for hours. His heart rate was too high, but any time Leonard attempted to ease off or go slow, Jim keened like he was wounded and begged some more.

 

"No, don't stop, just a little more, it's perfect, you're perfect, just- please, please, more-"

 

It was alright, Leonard told himself. Jim knew what he could handle, was strong and fit and resilient. He would be alright.

 

Leonard might not be, would certainly never forget how his name -nickname- sounded in that moment, would always wonder what might have happened if he had caught one of the drops of sweat dripping down Jim's chest on his tongue.

 

"Damnit, Jim," he grumbled, and his tone made Jim's cock twitch, which was promising for what he was about to do for the first time in so, so long. Leonard leaned up and over, setting his free hand down beside Jim's head while keeping the angle, the pressure, the constant stimulation up with his fingers. He couldn't do it for long, but hopefully he wouldn't need to.

 

He took a deep breath to summon up his will; Jim needed him and Leonard would fight the whole damn universe to keep him safe if he had to. "Look at me," he said, with a resonance of command he so rarely tapped into, and Jim's eyes fixed on his where they had been screwed shut, so wide and vulnerable that Leonard had to grit his teeth and snarl with the effort it took not to kiss him. "Come. Now."

 

Jim's eyes rolled back in his head as he did, with a breathless groan, driving his hips down in a relentless rhythm as Leonard worked him through it, hard. He came an impossible amount in countless thick spurts, not silent or still for a moment of it, panting and writhing and keening until finally, finally he was twisting away, whimpering at the touches Leonard gentled into feather-light caresses that made Jim slump back, trembling, onto the biobed.

 

Jim was already laughing breathlessly the moment he could, and although he grimaced at the removal of Leonard's fingers, his spirits were high enough for him to say, "You're going to be so smug about this, aren't you?"

 

Leonard loved him so fucking much. But there was no denying the bent to the smile on his face. "Going to be? I've already started."

 

When he hopped down off the biobed, bringing up the screen to monitor Jim's vitals and setting up sample slides cleaning his hands, Jim just laid there, watching him, something like a satisfied smile on his face. He was so relaxed, so naturally languid and comfortable, even practically naked, that Leonard felt guilty about disturbing the moment.

 

There was, however, come absolutely everywhere. When Leonard brushed his hair out of his eyes, he got some on his fingers, and he reached for more wipes. "You got come in my hair, damnit."

 

Jim was thoroughly unsympathetic, just gestured down at himself, at the mess of fluid across his chest. His head dropped back onto the bed when Leonard offered him the package of wipes, though, and he held out his arm, instead. "Just tell me it's over. I feel like it is. I just need to know."

 

Leonard was unspeakably gentle when he took those final samples, slotted them into the scanner with no little trepidation of his own. Where could they possibly go from there, if it wasn't over? There was only so far he could escalate without giving away the intensity and nature of his feelings. If he hadn't already. Jim might not have been entirely lucid, but he was smart. And he knew Leonard better than anyone. What was to say he hadn't already noticed, that Leonard hadn't already ruined everything either by having the damn feelings or by neglecting to tell Jim about them?

 

He was aware of Jim's disgusted noises behind him, the various slick sounds as he cleaned himself up, but he couldn't look away from the countdown on the scanner, sure somehow that if he did, he would jinx it. The scanner binged, and Leonard read and re-read the results until he could be sure of what they meant.

 

"You're clear."

 

Jim groaned. "Oh, thank God. That was intense. I am never having sex again for at least a week."

 

Leonard laughed, pinged the results off to the Science department, let himself turn, found himself with his arms suddenly full of heavy, exhausted Jim. He held him for a moment, and then just a little while longer.

 

"Let's get you to bed."

 

"Don't put out on the first date, Bones," Jim mumbled only somewhat coherently, and he didn't object when Leonard flagrantly misused the emergency system to get them beamed directly to Jim's quarters.

 

Jim attempted to collapse on his bed straight away; Leonard set him down on the couch with another nutrient sachet and a bottle of water while he stripped the sweat and come-stained sheets off -God, Jim had come twelve times- and shoved them in the 'fresher. He made the bed again, then all-but carried Jim to it with not a few flashbacks to their time at the Academy, Jim's body limp and uncooperative but thankfully on that occasion not bleeding. Jim was asleep by the time Leonard pulled the covers over him, didn't react to the soft kiss Leonard pressed to his temple.

 

With the computer set up to notify Leonard should Jim awake in any distress, Leonard returned to his quarters. His own sheets were rumpled, but they smelled only of him. Jim hadn’t been there long enough to leave any more of a trace.

 

Leonard couldn't face it, just changed into a clean uniform and went down to the main science lab to help find a better antidote than sixteen sequential orgasms.

 

-

 

He and Jim were busy, but they always made time for each other. If Leonard was honest, he had expected Jim to at least avoid him for a couple of days while he got his head straight, but it didn't happen. Jim visited him in med-bay, requested his presence on the bridge, slumped into a seat next to him at the weekly interdepartmental meeting and complained about being bored just as much as he always did.

 

And Leonard knew they needed to talk about what had happened, that what they had done had crossed so many lines and infringed on so many unspoken consents that they couldn't possibly not. He just couldn't bring himself to be the one to do it. It made him a little nervous, waiting for Jim to breach the topic, like waiting for a bomb to go off with no indication of when it might. He told himself it would pass, but he didn't believe it.

 

He had been wrong, anyway. In Jim's quarters, maybe a week later, after a casual dinner and during some terrible holo-movie neither of them were watching, Jim turned to him and asked. "Would you ever have told me?"

 

The question hurt, a physical pain like the impossibility of his heart breaking, his stomach sinking, having violent butterflies all at once. How could he ever have thought that the most observant, intelligent, brilliant man he knew could fail to notice that his best friend was in love with him? Except he had, for so many years.

 

Leonard couldn't look at him, hung his head, finally admitted, "No."

 

For a moment there was just excruciating, vulnerable silence.

 

"Why not?" Jim asked, then.

 

Well, he didn't sound angry at least. A little sad, somewhat hurt. Unguarded. Leonard felt terrible, searched for the words that could best describe the fear, the jealousy, the loss he had felt over the years that had prevented him from ever believing there was a chance. Jim was so vibrant, full of life, a shining star and Leonard was honored by him every day. "I guess- for all I go on at you for being reckless, you're just braver than I am. It terrifies me."

 

"What? Bones, you're the bravest person I know. Every day, you face up to all the stuff I don't even dare to think about."

 

"Well, mortality is nothing, it seems, compared to the risk of losing you."

 

It was the first time Leonard had even come close to saying it out loud, given voice to any aspect of the extent of his feelings. And for what? Tears threatened, because it had been selfish, hadn't it, offering to help Jim in that particular way, when he was hurting and vulnerable. It was only fair that he should lose the privilege of that trust -so hard-won- after such a breach.

 

"What about the risk of it working out?" Jim was more hesitant than Leonard had ever heard him. The butterflies redoubled.

 

"Jim-"

 

'Bones. Look at me."

 

The use of Leonard's own words, so inappropriate on both occasions, made him cringe. He swallowed, though, and blinked away moisture, and lifted his head to meet Jim's eyes.

 

Jim's smile was soft, reassuring. "Tell me."

 

"Jim-"

 

" _Bones_. Tell me."

 

And how could Leonard possibly resist. That gorgeous, understanding expression, the openness in Jim's eyes, the slightest hint of a smile and Leonard couldn't deny him a damn thing, had never been able to.

 

"I'm in love with you. Have been for years."

 

God, he hated himself, but it was a weight off his shoulders to get it out there, to trust Jim with it, to no longer feel like he was hiding the most important part of himself from his best friend.

 

Except Jim's eyes shone with tears, and he was giving Leonard an unsteady smile. "I'm in love with you, too. We should date."

 

"What?" Leonard just barely managed to say, because he had heard wrong, or he was hallucinating. Either way, the floor had dropped out from underneath him.

 

Bizarrely, that just seemed to help Jim find his confidence. "Go out with me. Give us a chance, Bones. You can do it."

 

"I-" It was like being in that shuttle again, lifting away from the only world he had ever known with Jim at his side, just the two of them against everything. Like every damn flying lesson, when Jim had never lost his patience; every time Jim had come home after one improbable scrape or another, had come back to him. It was that same terrifying moment of euphoria and vertigo and terror that maybe, next time, it wouldn't work. "I-"

 

It wasn't a no. Jim didn't believe in those anyway, reached out and took Leonard's hand and gave him a gorgeous, genuine smile. He was so warm, so real, so close and yet so impossible that Leonard wanted to fight and scream and run.

 

"Yes," he said, somehow, because he would take anything, any moment of having Jim as his. Nothing could take that moment away from him, of watching joy suffuse Jim's features, of seeing him unrestrained and happy because of him, because of Leonard. "Yes," he said again, because he had no idea why he hadn't said it sooner, so he had to say it more.

 

He said it again, pressed right to Jim's lips, made Jim smile and clamber into his lap, straddling his thighs to kiss him thoroughly, slick and dirty and perfect. Again, when he admired the lurid purple bite mark he'd left on Jim's throat as he pressed Jim back into the sheets of his bed. A few times more, when Jim's cock breached and then pressed inexorably inside of him and then multiple times, emphatically, when he came to the feeling of that stretch and the stimulation of his prostate, Jim's fingers deft and sure where they were wrapped around his cock. Every time, it made Jim's eyes shine a little brighter, made his smile broaden a little more.

 

He said, "I love you," again, too, as they laid there, both satisfied and post-coital and unwilling to move apart, rolled his eyes fondly and then held Jim tight until he'd stopped pretending not to cry.

 

And then he said it again.


End file.
